


you make me feel it

by buddiebuddie (positivelystisaac)



Series: white house AU [1]
Category: 9-1-1 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, M/M, President Evan Buckley lmao, and Special Agent Eddie Diaz, and fluff too I promise!!!, but these idiots are gonna be the death of me i swear, lil warning for a minor shooting, no death or anything
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-12
Updated: 2019-11-20
Packaged: 2021-01-29 04:10:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 15,283
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21403969
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/positivelystisaac/pseuds/buddiebuddie
Summary: Buck sighs. “I just want you to be my boyfriend, not my bodyguard, is all.”Eddie brushes his thumb over Buck’s bottom lip. “Well, you signed up for that one.”Or, the one where Buck is the president, Eddie is a Secret Service agent, and neither can keep his hands to himself.
Relationships: Evan "Buck" Buckley/Eddie Diaz
Series: white house AU [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1677313
Comments: 131
Kudos: 830





	1. stuck in the storm we were born to ignore

**Author's Note:**

> this fic is the lovechild of my desire to write a story in which eddie and buck sneak around and back each other into walls and doors every chance they get and the hours i spent binge-watching scandal. it’s gonna be a bit of a longer one, so buckle up!! 
> 
> featuring: maddie as buck’s badass chief of staff, firefam as secret service agents, a little bit of angst, and some buckley sibling shenanigans thrown in there for good measure *chef’s kiss*
> 
> title from don’t take the money by bleachers & lorde

“Eddie,” Buck manages to get out between shaky breaths. “Please.”

Eddie looks up from where he’s making quick work of Buck’s belt. Buck’s hair is a tousled mess, sticking out every which way. His pupils are blown, lips swollen and pink, a rosy flush creeping up his neck and making its way to his cheeks. Eddie grins, surging forward to catch Buck’s lips in yet another kiss. He drops one hand to the edge of the desk Buck is sitting atop, the other to Buck’s thigh as he steps back into the space between his spread legs. 

And then Buck has a fist around Eddie’s tie, pulling him in even closer. His lips make their way down Eddie’s jaw, well on their way to kissing a mark into the spot where his neck meets his collarbone that drive him absolutely crazy. “Fuck,” Eddie whispers, fingers digging into Buck’s thigh in an attempt to keep from melting into a puddle on the floor. He hears a low beep in his right ear and screws his eyes shut, willing it to just be his imagination. Then, the voice comes through. “Eddie, Eddie, Bobby.” 

He places a hand on Buck’s chest gently, taking a small step back. He doesn’t miss Buck’s frustrated groan as he brings his watch-clad wrist to his mouth. 

“Go for Eddie,” he says, bringing his finger up to his ear to reposition his earpiece that had come loose during the shenanigans of the last few minutes. He frowns at Buck, as if to apologize. “Copy that. Eagle is on the move,” He says before dropping his hand and tapping Buck’s thigh twice. Buck hops down from the desk, heaving a dramatic sigh. “I hate this, you know,” he gripes, buckling his belt back up. 

“Yeah, well, you’re the one who wanted to run for President,” Eddie says, straightening the American flag pin on Buck’s lapel. 

“Biggest mistake of my fucking life,” Buck teases. He doesn’t mean it. He loves everything about this job— except when it’s a cockblock. Which happens far too often. 

“Tell that to the eighty million people who voted for you to be here,” Eddie replies, fixing the knot on his own tie. 

“Maybe I should quit,” Buck says. “Better yet, fake my own death. Hide on an island for the rest of my life.”

Eddie raises an eyebrow. “As the head of your Secret Service detail, I’m gonna have to advise against that. Sounds like a paperwork nightmare for me.”

“Fine,” Buck says with a small sigh. “But don’t say I never gave you anything.”

“Roger that,” Eddie says with a smile, running a hand through Buck’s hair to straighten it back out. 

“And after you worked so hard to undo it,” Buck muses, smirking. “Damn shame.” 

“I’ll get my chance, don’t you worry,” Eddie grins. He presses a quick kiss to Buck’s forehead. “They need you in the Oval. Let’s go.”

Eddie gets to the White House at 6:30 each morning, in time for the President’s scheduled 7:00 run, followed by his 8:15 debriefing. In the five months he’s been President and Eddie’s been his Secret Service detail, he’s gone for said run approximately twice. Things he’s done more than twice in the five months he’s been President? Eddie.

It started out innocent. And if the public were to ever find out, that’s exactly what Buck would tell them. Eddie was assigned to him a year and a half before eighty million Americans put their trust in him to lead them towards a better tomorrow. 

They didn't get along at first. Truly, if you were to look up "butting heads" in the dictionary, you'd flip right to a photo of the two of them during the first few months together on the campaign trail. But the thing about the campaign trail is that it was intense and overwhelming and exhausting. Despite it all, and perhaps because of it, the two of them were drawn to one another like a moth to a flame. When the days were long and the emotions ran high, they had each other to fall back on. Or, really, fall into bed beside. Semantics. 

Buck can’t remember who made the first move. All he remembers is that they were on a campaign stop in the middle of Iowa, and Eddie was tearing into him about being too friendly and trusting with the crowd, and he was being stubborn in response. He can’t remember what he said that caused Eddie to back him against the wall of his hotel room, can’t remember who it was who closed the distance. But god, he’ll never forget the shock that went through him at the feeling of Eddie’s lips on his for the first time, his skin absolutely buzzing beneath Eddie’s touch. He’ll never forget the way the hair on the back of his neck stood straight up as half-breath-half-words tumbled from their lips between frenetic kisses, sounding a lot like _ finally_, _ ohmygod, more_, and _ Eddie please. _

And if you asked Eddie? Well, he’d say he’ll always remember the look in Buck’s eyes when he pinned him against that hotel room wall. The hunger, anticipation, and adoration all swirling around, daring Eddie to do what he’d been waiting to do for so long. He’ll never forget how stubborn Buck was being, how frustrated and angry he was that he could be so stupid when it came to his own safety. How Buck had been doing these little, seemingly innocent but absolutely infuriating and incredibly hard-to-ignore things for weeks. Things like pressing his thigh up against Eddie’s as they sat in the car together, or letting his fingers linger just a little longer than they needed to anytime they made contact. And making direct eye contact anytime he used a straw. Eddie knew where his head was. Partly because his own was there, too, but mostly because Evan Buckley doesn’t have a subtle bone in his body. 

So, yeah, Eddie will never forget that night. Especially not how good it felt to have their bodies pressed up against each other as he was mere centimeters from Buck’s face, practically hissing, “Maybe I should just give you what you want.” And how Buck smirked and shot back “Maybe you should.” 

If you asked Eddie, he might tell you all that, but more likely, he’d say he was just following his boss’s orders. 

And speaking of the boss, the man loves his sleep. Not that Eddie can blame him. He’d do sick shit for an extra hour of sleep, and can’t imagine how much more he’d want that hour if he spent his days being the President of the United States, as opposed to just protecting him. The non-existent run has become somewhat of a joke amongst the Secret Service agents. Bobby waits at the East entrance to the residence while Eddie waits at the West. At 7:30, Hen and Chim take over the East side and Bobby joins Eddie at the West. Hen and Chim have an ongoing bet for the longest no-run streak. Chim has $100 that says he’ll hit a whole calendar year. Hen took the under.

Most mornings, the agents wait until 7:45, when word reaches Maddie, Buck’s Chief of Staff, that he’s yet to show his face. 

At that point, she shows up and starts pounding on the door. Usually, that’s enough to get him up and moving for the day, but there are times when Eddie has to open the door so she can barge through the door and all but drag her brother out of bed. 

But today, it’s 7:03 when the doors to the residence swing open, and Buck is standing there in a pair of basketball shorts and an old Yale sweatshirt. He has the hood pulled up over his head, hands shoved in the front pocket. “Morning, Mr. President,” Eddie greets him with a slight raise of left eyebrow. 

“What did I say about calling me that?” 

“Morning, Buck.”

Buck nods, stifling a yawn. “Much better. Ready to run?”

“Always,” Eddie replies. Since Buck’s morning workout is a part of his official schedule, Eddie shows up in his own workout clothes each morning, as does Bobby.

“Where’s Bobby?” Buck asks, glancing around. 

Eddie nods towards the corridor. “At the other entrance. He joins me here at 7:30, once other agents arrive.”

“Huh,” Buck mumbles. “Never knew that.”

“Well, we’re not usually graced with your presence this early,” Eddie replies. 

“Wow,” Buck says with a small whistle. “So that’s how it’s going to be. Okay, Eddie. I see you.”

Eddie just smirks in response. 

“Tell Bobby he can sit this one out.”

“And why’s that?”

Buck raises his eyebrows. “You and I have some unfinished business from yesterday. Figured this might be as good a time as ever to finish it.”

“Is that right?” Eddie can’t keep the grin off his face. 

“You bet.”

“Alrighty then. After you.” 

Which is how Eddie finds himself with his back up against a tree, bark digging into his bare skin as Buck rucks his shirt up in between kisses. He’s taking quick breaths as Buck’s hands travel south beneath his shirt, making their way down his toned stomach towards the waistband of his shorts. “Buck-” Eddie pants, grabbing Buck’s wrists to keep his hands in place and get his attention. “Ten minutes.”

“I only need three,” Buck says with a grin, nudging Eddie’s hands away and hooking his fingers in the elastic of his waistband. Eddie inhales sharply at the loss of contact as Buck’s lips leave his neck. 

“Three?” Eddie manages to get out. He bites back a moan as Buck yanks his shorts down, dropping to his knees. “Ambitious,” he adds, but his shudder as a wave of pleasure courses over him betrays his skepticism. 

Buck can’t help but grin, admiring his work. Eddie’s head is thrown back, his pupils blown and jaw slack as he draws shaky breaths, one hand against the tree to keep himself in place, the other digging into Buck’s shoulder, squeezing as Buck starts to take him apart. “Is it, though?”


	2. you steal the air out of my lungs

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> here comes the angst doo doo doo doo  
tags updated! tw: shooting in this chapter and referenced in the following ones

Technically speaking, there’s nothing in the Constitution that says the president can’t get drunk in the Oval Office after a particularly stressful and miserable day as the leader of the free world. The look on Eddie’s face when he walks in and sees Buck sitting on the floor, back against his desk and scotch glass in his hand, however, might suggest otherwise. 

Buck says nothing, just holds out a glass for him with a finger’s worth of scotch in it. 

“Bad day?” Eddie asks, taking the glass from Buck and sitting down beside him. 

“Iowa day,” Buck replies. Eddie smiles, resting his head against Buck’s and sighing. It was something they started saying somewhere along the end of the campaign trail, when the days were so long and treacherous that thinking of their one-night stop in Iowa was the only thing that could get them through. 

“I’m sorry,” Eddie says quietly, taking a sip. 

“Don’t be.”

Buck rests his head on Eddie’s shoulder, taking a deep breath as he thinks about just how fucked he is. Not only with the stress of his job, but with this right here. With Eddie. He’s been trying to deny it for months now, but there’s somethign about tonight that’s left him fresh out of fucks to give. Maybe it’s the alcohol. Maybe it’s not. Maybe it’s the stress of the day that’s making the thought of pretending for even a second feel impossible. Or maybe — just maybe— it’s the fact that he spent all day longing for just a second alone with Eddie. Just one quick moment with the person he misses the most when he’s stuck in back-to-back meetings or listening to the umpteenth person of the day ask him for something they both know he can’t possibly give them. Just a quick smile, a squeeze of his hand in the back of the car, a brush of their fingers against each other as they walk side by side down the hall. 

Whatever it is, Buck is officially Sick Of The Act. He’s done pretending he’s not falling for his head agent. Done, done, done. So he totally leans into it, resting his head on Eddie’s shoulder and sighing. 

He’s not sure what he’s expecting Eddie to do, but he’d be lying if he said he didn’t feel butterflies in his stomach when he rests his head atop Buck’s and starts tracing lazy circles with his thumb on Buck’s thigh. 

Buck is staring up at the ceiling, mind still racing as he thinks over the day’s events when Eddie’s voice snaps him out of his thoughts. “Enough overthinking,” Eddie whispers. “Time to get out of this office.”

“That’s the greatest idea I’ve ever heard,” Buck replies. “I want to go to bed.”

“Let’s go, I’ll walk you down,” Eddie says, taking the now-empty glass out of Buck’s hands and placing it on the floor beside him. 

“Stay?” Buck half-asks, half-states. 

Eddie sighs, shaking his head. “Can’t. I promised Christopher I’d read him an extra story before bed tonight.” 

“Well then what are you still doing here?!” he makes a shooing motion towards the door. 

“I barely saw you today,” Eddie says with a shrug, getting to his feet. “Wanted to make sure you were still alive.”

“Checking on my well-being, huh?” Buck teases him, accepting Eddie’s outstretched hand to help him stand up. “Gold star for you, Special Agent Diaz.” 

“Well thank you, Mr. President.”

“I’m glad you did,” Buck says quietly, his fingers brushing up against Eddie’s. He knows it’s over the line, knows they don’t do this— real, honest feelings— and knows he should stick to stolen, heated kisses and sex in closets and up against trees. But he’s had a bad day and several glasses of scotch and the real and honest truth is that he’s glad Eddie came by. Incredibly, insanely happy, to be exact. And incredibly, insanely past the point of caring if Eddie knows it. 

Eddie squeezes Buck’s hand. “Me, too,” he says honestly. He doesn’t miss the way his chest tightens when he says it, how good it feels to be real, even if just for a minute. Even if Buck might not remember it in the morning. 

“Go be super dad,” Buck says after a moment. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Bright and early for a run, yeah?,” Eddie teases, knowing damn well there’s no way anyone will be seeing Buck’s face until _ at least _ eight o’clock. 

“Over my dead body,” Buck replies. 

“Not funny,” Eddie frowns, turning to walk out. Right before he reaches the door, he turns around, closing the distance between them in two steps. He presses a kiss to Buck’s cheek. “Okay, now I really am going,” he says. 

Buck grins, shoving his chest playfully. “Get out of here before I call your kid and tell him what you’re really up to over here.” 

“Chim, Chim, Eddie,” Eddie whispers into the tiny microphone embedded in his watch. “How we looking?”

It’s a few seconds before Chim’s voice comes through Eddie’s earpiece. “All good down here. We’re go for Eagle flight.”

Eddie looks over at Buck, who’s busy with something on his phone. “Copy that. Eagle is flying.” At Eddie’s words, Buck glances up from his phone. He puts it in the inside pocket of his suit jacket before saying, “Okay, let’s do this.” 

Eddie follows him, two paces behind as always, as they make their way down the hallway and to the garage. Another agent closes the door to a blacked out Suburban behind them with a silent nod. 

Eddie scans the interior of the car quickly. Maddie is already waiting in one of the leather seats, and glances up from her phone as the car starts to move. 

“Hey, guys,” she greets them. 

“‘Sup,” Buck replies, as Eddie says, “Morning, Ma’am.”

The convoy pulls up to the park where Buck is set to speak after only a few minutes. It’s been exactly a year since Buck was elected, and he’s speaking at the same park where he gave his acceptance speech on Election Night. This time, instead of accepting the office of President, he’s announcing his plan for universal healthcare. His nerves are out of control. He’s more worried about messing up his speech than he is about the people who are going to disagree and criticize him. He believes in this plan more than anything and will stand by it forever, but he can’t shake the pre-speech jitters. 

“Let’s get this show on the road,” he says as he’s ushered out of the car and up a back staircase to the stage. He glances back at Eddie, who’s two paces behind him as always. He’s busy having a conversation over his earpiece, nodding here and there. Buck runs through his speech notes one more time before passing them to Maddie, who pockets them and pats him on the shoulder. 

“Go get em,” she says with a smile. 

“You got this,” Eddie says as they walk onto the stage, so quietly that Buck nearly misses it. But he doesn’t. He nods once, knocking his pinky against Eddie’s palm as they separate, Buck heading to the podium as Eddie takes his spot several paces behind him. 

Eddie’s eyes are trained on Buck, watching him speak to the crowd as if he’s known them for ages. Eddie’s always known him to have charm and charisma for days, but moments like these are where it really shines through. In fact, he has to fight a smile as he watches Buck smile through his words, eyes lit up. Watching Buck not only doing what he does best, but doing something he loves so much — connecting with the American people — well, it’s damn near one of Eddie’s favorite pastimes. 

He watches intently as Buck speaks, and while the flash of light in his peripheral vision takes him by surprise, it’s the sound of a gun being fired that kicks him into gear. 

He doesn’t even have to think about it before he’s running to the podium, slowing down only long enough to grab Buck by the shoulders and push him forward, covering his body with his own as they run off the stage. Chim and Bobby are waiting at the steps to the stage, and take Buck from Eddie’s grip, ushering him to the waiting car. Eddie pulls his gun, turning to face the park. He feels the next shot before he hears it, searing pain shooting through his body as his back hits the ground. His hand flies to his abdomen as he scrambles to get air into his lungs. There’s screaming all around him, but all he can hear is his heartbeat thumping in his ears. And then Hen is beside him, shouting into her watch that there have been _ shots fired at POTUS, agent down, repeat, agent down, shots fired at POTUS. _ And then she’s hovering over him, demanding he _ breathe _ , _ breathe, Eddie! You’ve got to breathe. _It all sounds like he’s underwater, everything muffled as he’s dragged off the stage.

It’s not until she yanks his shirt up, and Eddie hears the velcro of his vest ripping open that he snaps back, suddenly acutely aware of everything around him. “Stay down,” Hen says, a hand on Eddie’s chest pushing him back as he tries to sit up. “Eddie, breathe.”

“Buck! No, let me—” Eddie insists, resisting. 

“He’s fine,” Hen says. “He’s fine, we got him out. You need to stay down. It looks like it’s caught in your vest.”

“My vest?” Eddie echoes. There are paramedics swarming them now, yelling back and forth as Hen laughs, running her hand over where the bullet is lodged in the kevlar. “Yep, it’s stuck right here,” she grabs his hand and places it on the where the bullet is lodged in the material of his vest. His fingers ghost over the metal. It’s still warm. “You got lucky, Ed. You’re gonna be fine.”

“Then let me go,” Eddie insists, bringing a hand up to stop one of the paramedics from slipping an oxygen mask over his face. “I… I need to be with him. Who’s going to—”

Hen grabs his shoulder, holding him gently against the ground. She takes the oxygen from the paramedic and slips it over Eddie’s nose and mouth before he has another chance to protest. She brings her hand to the mask, holding it in place and giving him a knowing look. “He’s okay, I promise. You need to just sit back and let them check you out.”

“Eddie!” Buck screams as he’s ushered into the Suburban, pushing against Chim and Bobby to turn his head and look back, where he can make out Eddie laying still on the stage. “No, don’t!” he shakes his head as the door is slammed shut and the car peels away. “Where’s my sister?” he demands, freezing as he realizes she’s not beside him in the car as she should be. 

“She’s in the other car, she’s fine.” Buck finds relief in that, but he can’t get the thought of Eddie on that stage out of his head. He’s barely listening as Bobby talks, the panic rising in him. “Mr. President, are you okay?” Bobby asks for the third time, eyes scanning Buck’s body for any signs of injury. 

“Eddie got hit,” Buck says quickly. “Eddie... They know he got hit, right? I.. I saw it, they shot him. Someone… someone _ shot _ him,” Buck says, the events of the last minute registering as he speaks. “And you guys just left him there? No, no way. Turn around. You can’t just _ leave _ him there.” The anger creeping into his voice is unmistakable. 

“He’s fine,” Bobby calls up front to whoever’s behind the wheel. Then, turning back to Buck, he says, “There are agents and paramedics on scene with him. He’s in good hands.”

“Turn the car around,” Buck demands. Bobby raises one eyebrow in response. “Turn the car around!” he repeats, voice desperate. 

“That’s not happening, sir,” Bobby says. 

“I want you to turn around. We have to go back for him. He was just… just laying there! No, turn around. Turn around now.” He can feel the panic continuing to build, his breath coming in quick gasps. 

“Take a breath,” Bobby says, placing a hand on Buck’s shoulder. “Just breathe.”

“No, no,” Buck repeats. “Go back. We have to go back.” The car keeps hurtling forward, with no indication of stopping. “Go back!” Buck shouts. And then Bobby has his arms wrapped around him, pulling him to his chest. 

He’s sobbing now, hot tears running down his cheeks as he gasps for air. Bobby’s voice is steady in his ear, telling him to _ breathe _ and _ focus on me _but he’s too worked up. He can’t get out of his own way, can’t get a deep breath no matter how hard he tries, his hands shaking as the anxiety buzzes through his body. 

Someone in the car must have gotten Maddie on the phone, because the next thing he hears is her voice, even and calm as it comes through someone’s phone speaker. “Four seven eight,” is all she has to say before Buck comes back into his body. He inhales a shaky breath for four seconds, holds it for seven, and exhales it slowly for eight, Maddie’s voice in his ear counting the whole time. He can feel his pulse in his whole body as he calms down, acutely aware of the burning in his cheeks as the flush beneath his skin begins to subside. 

The car pulls into the hospital halfway through his fourth breath and he’s ushered out, despite his repeated insistence that he’s fine. People around him keep talking, saying words like _ protocol _ and _ lucky _ as they herd him into a room. He’s about to snap at one of them that he’s not lucky, that there’s nothing _ lucky _ about Eddie getting shot with a bullet that was meant for him, but he hears Maddie’s voice in his head telling him to be Presidential. 

He sits in silence, stone-faced as doctors and nurses come in and out. Bobby and Chim stand at either side of the door to his room, arms crossed in front of them as they watch the hallway. Each time Buck notices one of them talking through their earpieces, he calls out and asks for an update. Each time, there is none. He tries calling Eddie once, then twice, and finally, a third time. Each one goes unanswered, the pit in his stomach growing each time Eddie’s voicemail clicks on. After what feels like an eternity (which he later finds out was all of ten minutes) Maddie bursts through the doors to the room. “Evan, oh my God,” she says, sighing in relief. 

He feels the hot tears rush back to his eyes the second he sees her, and when she wraps him up in a hug, they start rolling down his cheeks once more. “Eddie got shot,” he whispers into her hair. “He got shot and no one is telling me anything and it's all my fault.” 

“Shh,” Maddie says, rubbing his back. “It’s not your fault.”

“It is! It was meant for me, not him. I…”

“Don’t go there,” Maddie says sitting down beside him on the bed. The panic is starting to brew inside him again. “I know he’s your favorite agent and you guys have a special bond, but he knew what he signed up for.”

“A special bond,” Buck echoes. _ If only she knew _, he thinks. “Yeah.”

“Hey,” Maddie says, bringing him out of his thoughts. “Everything is going to be okay.” 

“You don’t know that!” he snaps, bringing a hand up to wipe the tears from his eyes. “You… you don’t know that.” 

Maddie shakes her head, grabbing his hand and squeezing it reassuringly. “I know that you’re okay, and you’re safe, and that’s that matters. That’s all we know to be true right now, so that’s what we’re going to focus on.” 

Buck notices his breathing evening out as Maddie continues to talk, her voice calm and reassuring, grounding him with each word. 

“I’m going to find out where Eddie is and how he’s doing, but you have to relax and let them take care of you,” she says. 

Buck shakes his head. “I keep telling them I’m fine, but they aren’t listening.” 

“They’re just doing their jobs,” Maddie reminds him. “In case you forgot, you’re the President. And you just got shot at.”

“But—”

“But you’re fine, I know,” Maddie rolls her eyes. “Well, the sooner you let them do their jobs and clear you, the sooner you’ll get out of here.”

Buck takes a deep, shaky breath. “He can’t die, Mads.”

She nods, squeezing his hand once more. “I know.”


	3. a shimmering balance act

Eddie refuses to ride in the ambulance, much to the dismay of Hen and the paramedics. He does accept an ice pack, though, and presses it to the spot on his abdomen that’s quickly turning purple, wincing at the contact. After passing them back the oxygen mask and pulling off the bullet-laden vest, he re-buttons his shirt and stands up with a shaky breath. “Eddie—” Hen begins. 

One look from him is all it takes before she shuts her mouth, rolling her eyes. She glances at the hole in his button-down from where the bullet tore through, and shakes her head, nodding towards a waiting car. “Let’s go, then.”

“Take me to him,” Eddie says as they climb into the car. 

“You know that’s not happening,” Hen replies. “We have to go debrief.”

“No,” Eddie snaps. “We’re going to him. Now. If I have to drive the car myself, so be it.”

He doesn’t miss how the agent driving tightens his grip on the wheel. 

“Eddie, come on. You know this is protocol.” 

“Fuck protocol,” he hisses. “I need— _ we _ need to make sure he’s safe.”

“He’s at the hospital getting checked out now. The wing is shut down and there are agents everywhere.”

Eddie knows he should be satisfied with this answer, but he can’t shake the ball of anxiety in the bottom of his gut, growing and spreading with every minute that passes. 

Hen places a hand on his thigh gently after a few minutes pass in silence. “I can hear you over-thinking from here.”

“It was my fault,” Eddie says quietly. “I wasn’t looking.”

“What?”

“When the gunman fired,” he says. “I… I wasn’t scanning the crowd.”

“You weren’t on crowd duty,” she reminds him. 

Eddie drops his head into his hands, drawing in a long breath. “I know, but I should have been looking. I should have been an extra set of eyes. I could have stopped this.”

“Hey, look at me,” Hen demands. “Do not go there.”

“How can I not?” Eddie demands, looking up at her. “I was right there. I should’ve seen.” 

“Every single body and bag in that crowd was checked. The guy was in a nearby building,” Hen says. “There were over a hundred agents and officers there today, and he got past all of us. We had teams sweep the nearby buildings and he got past them. Even if you did see him, there’s no telling if we’d have been able to clear the stage in time.”

“I was distracted,” Eddie says, more to himself than to Hen. “I was distracted and he could’ve died because of it.”

“Are you forgetting that you’re the one who took the bullet?” she asks. “You did everything right. Everything. You were the first one to move, first one to notice what was happening. Hell, you were on top of him and moving before half of us even had our guns out. You had him out of there before the second bullet. You’re the reason he’s safe, Eddie. You.”

  
  


Chim pokes his head into the room a few minutes after Maddie walks out. He tosses something onto the bed, it landing next to Buck softly. 

Buck‘s eyebrows furrow in confusion, before reaching down and realizing it’s Chim’s earpiece. “This never happened,” is all he says before turning back around to his post. 

“I love you, Chimney Han!” Buck calls out, scrambling to put the earpiece in. It’s a few minutes before anything happens, and even then it’s just Bobby’s voice coming through, updating the other agents on what’s going on at the hospital. Which is nothing, as far as Buck’s concerned. He’s been in this damn room for what feels like ages, waiting for them to finally let him leave. 

He texts Maddie, who’s off trying to figure out what’s happening and how they’re going to brief the press, but she still has no news. It’s only after he’s tried calling Eddie for what feels like the tenth time— and getting his voicemail once again— that he hears Hen’s voice in his ear. 

“Eagle team, Eagle team, Hen.” 

He shoots straight up, hanging onto her every word. 

“Go for Eagle team,” Bobby replies. 

“Suspect in custody, park is secured.”

“Casualties?”

Buck’s teeth are digging into his bottom lip so hard as he waits for Hen’s response that he nearly draws blood. “None. The first bullet was lodged in the stage, and Eddie took the other to the abdomen, but his vest caught it.”

“How is he?” Bobby asks before Buck can barge through the door, grab Bobby’s watch and ask himself. 

There’s some shuffling on Hen’s end before a low voice is in Buck’s ear, saying, “I’m fine.” 

Buck drops his head to his hands, choking on a sob he didn’t realize he was holding in. It’s a good thing he’s sitting down, he thinks, as there’s no way his legs could hold him up now with the way his body’s shaking as relief floods through him. 

It’s not long until he’s released, and then they’re bringing him back to the White House, the car ride to which is spent calling Eddie several more times unsuccessfully. He shoots him a text (**I need to see you) **right before he’s ushered into the first of many back to back to back meetings and briefings and strategy teams about what happened. He sits through them all, half-listening. He’d be lying if he said his thoughts weren’t all over the place. Finally, Maddie tells him they’re done for the day and can go to bed. As they walk out of the West Wing, he asks once more about Eddie. All Maddie says is “They told me he’s okay, but we don’t know yet when he’ll be back.”

“Or if,” Buck adds quietly. 

“If?” Maddie asks. “What, like he’s gonna quit?”

Buck nods, stopping at the doors to the residence. “He took a bullet today. I mean, can you blame him?”

“He’s not quitting,” says Maddie. “This is what he signed up for. In fact, he’s probably in a hospital room somewhere, refusing medical care and demanding to get back out there,” Maddie points out. It’s the first time since the sound of the first gunshot that Buck smiles. 

“What are you doing?” he asks as Maddie opens the door to the residence, stepping inside the long corridor and looking back at him expectantly. 

“Oh, that’s cute if you think we’re not having Buckley Bonding after today,” she replies, turning and marching towards Buck’s room. Buck’s smile grows tenfold. A night of movies and White House room service is about the best-sounding thing in the world right now, second only to spending the night with Eddie— wherever he may be. 

Maddie goes across the hall to one of the empty guest rooms sometime after midnight. She can barely keep her eyes open, but sleep never comes for Buck. His eyes are still open, willing sleep to come, when the sun starts to come through the curtains in his bedroom. He heaves a sigh, figuring now’s as good a time as ever to get up and start his day. He’s still buzzing from the events of the day before, nothing but nervous energy and shaky hands as he pulls on a sweatshirt and shorts. He laces up his sneakers and grabs his headphones, glancing at the clock. 7:06. Right on time. And still no text from Eddie. He rubs at his eyes, hoping the bags beneath them aren’t too telling of the restless night he had. Pulling open the door to his bedroom and stepping into the hallway, he blinks rapidly as his eyes adjust to the light. He tries to stop the panic from rising when he doesn’t see Eddie at his usual spot by the residence doors. The agent standing in his place greets him with a perfectly friendly nod and “Mr. President,” and definitely doesn't deserve the straight face she gets from Buck in response. 

He doesn't bother looking back to make sure someone is following him. The telltale sound of dress shoes on tile — his ever-present reminder that he won’t have a minute’s peace for the next seven years — is all the confirmation he needs that the agents know where he’s going. Which is perfect, since he’s not exactly in the talking mood. 

He feels better once he’s running, the sound of his feet on the trail and the burning in his chest with each breath both welcome distractions. The music blaring in his ears doesn’t hurt, either. 

He feels a little better after he gets back and showers. Putting on a fresh suit, he fires off a text to Maddie. 

8:13 am: **Who’s the new agent in the residence?**

8:14 am: _Special Agent Bosko? She’s not new. Just transferred over from the East Wing until Eddie’s back. _

8:14 am: **Which is when?**

8:15 am: _Not sure. Sorry :( _

8:15 am: _Have you heard from him?_

8:16 am: **Nope. Nothing**

8:16 am: _Listen, I know it’s weird not having your regular agent, especially after a day like yesterday. But I’m sure he’ll be back. Honestly, he’s probably buried in paperwork. I bet you he’s back tomorrow._

What Buck wants to say is that the silence from Eddie is killing him slowly, and that he isn’t sure he can do another minute of it, let alone a whole day. But instead, he adds a thumbs up to her message and pockets his phone with a sigh. 

He’s at the Capitol building, sitting in his third meeting of the day when Eddie walks into the room. He’s sitting there going back and forth with the House Committee on Agriculture about regulating spinach crops in New Jersey when Eddie just breezes in as if nothing happened. He nods at Special Agent Bosko, who claps Eddie on the shoulder on the way out as he takes her place. 

The onslaught of emotions that comes at seeing Eddie on the other side of the room is almost too much for Buck to handle. It doesn’t help that he notices Eddie right as he takes the floor. He stumbles over the first few words of his sentence, trying to focus over the sound of his heart thumping in his ears. He flexes his fingers, trying to ground himself amidst the guilt, relief, joy, and anger swirling around in his chest. While he’s never been happier to see Eddie’s face, the unbearable anticipation and uncertainty of his dropping off the face of the earth for the last 24 hours has left Buck feeling anxious and angry, and he can’t stand sitting here and stewing in it any longer. He excuses himself as soon as he’s done speaking, walking straight through the double doors to the meeting room. Even though he has no idea what he’s going to say, he knows Eddie’s contractually bound to follow him. He’s fine starting there. 

Sure enough, Eddie is two steps behind him as he storms down the hallway, not stopping until he throws open the door to a side staircase. He stops, back to the stairs as he turns to face Eddie. 

Buck reaches for Eddie’s hand, but Eddie pulls back at the contact, shoving his hands into his pockets as he stares ahead, eyes cast over Buck’s shoulder, his lips set in a straight line. Buck tries not to let the sting of rejection overcome him, but he’s in no mood to pretend. 

“I can’t,” Eddie says, voice small. 

“Seriously?” Buck asks, trying to meet Eddie’s eyes. 

“You should get back in there,” Eddie says, cold edge to his voice as he nods towards the hallway. 

“Seriously?” Buck repeats, more of a demand this time. “I thought you were dead and you can’t even look me in the eye.” 

Eddie says nothing. Buck shakes his head, chewing on his bottom lip. He stares at Eddie, whose lips are still in that tight line, his jaw set. 

“Eddie, please,” his voice breaks on the final syllable. 

“I can’t, Buck,” is all Eddie says.

“You can’t? Can’t what?” 

Eddie doesn’t say anything, just chews on the inside of his lip and waits for Buck to get it all out. “So that’s it?” Buck asks. “You’re just going to come in here like nothing happened?” He can feel himself getting angrier and angrier with each word. “You’re going to get shot and let me think you’re dead or dying or never coming back to work again and then you’re just going to saunter into my meeting without any explanation? Without even looking me in the eye, let alone talking to me? You know what, no. No, no, no. Fuck you, Eddie.” 

“Are you done?” Eddie says after a beat. 

Buck throws his hands in the air, exasperation consuming him. “Oh my god, you’re infuriating. And no, I’m not done. Yesterday was the worst day of my life, waiting to find out if you were dead or not. I mean, God, Eddie, I’ll never get that image of you lying on that stage out of my head. And I know we don’t do this and I know I’m _ so _ far out of line here but screw it. I am so fucking done pretending that I’m not in love with you. And if you want to ignore me and pretend that yesterday never happened and that _ we _ never happened, then fine. Be my fucking guest, but I’m done pretending.”

He doesn’t even wait for Eddie to respond, just throws open the door and all but runs down the hallway back into his meeting, where he has plenty of time and space to overthink every single word that just came out of his mouth. 


	4. don’t take the money

Maddie’s text comes in barely an hour after Buck put his foot so far in his mouth he might as well have swallowed it.

2:47 pm: {Image attached} _ Which gown for tonight? _

2:47 pm: **definitely the navy **

2:47 pm: **what’s it for??**

2:48 pm: _ Please tell me you’re kidding _

2:48 pm: **omg the state dinner**

2:48 pm: **i totally forgot **

2:48 pm: **fuck me **

2:48 pm: **is it too late to reschedule?**

2:49 pm: _ Reschedule? The President of India’s visit? Which has been scheduled for months? The one that the WH staffers and Secret Service have been busting their asses all week prepping for? _

2:49 pm: **yep that’s the one**

2:50 pm: _ You’re actively sending me to an early grave. You know that, right? _

2:50 pm: **ok ok not rescheduling but i’d like to go on the record stating that i am Not Happy about it**

2:50 pm: _ No one said you have to be happy about it. You just have to be there. _

2:50 pm: _ Get all your pouting out before the cameras start rolling. Which, by the way, is at 6:45 on the lawn. _

2:50 pm: **i’ll be there with my most presidential smile **

2:51 pm: **only because you’re my sister and i love you and i will not embarrass you publicly**

2:51 pm: **privately is another story though **

He tucks his phone back into his pocket, focusing his attention back on the conversation about spinach that is somehow _ still _ happening. Not even ten minutes pass before he’s hit with a realization. He quickly pulls his phone back out and hides it under the table as he fires off a text like a high schooler in geometry class trying not to get caught.

3:00 pm: **wait do i have to speak at this thing**

3:01 pm: _ The rate at which you seem to forget you’re responsible for leading the free world is honestly alarming _

Buck laughs at that, catching himself almost immediately and trying to cover it with a fake cough, which earns him several looks from some of the representatives in the room. He tucks his phone back into his pocket, clearing his throat and trying his best to pretend nothing happened. As soon as the godforsaken spinach meeting is over, he hightails it out of the room and straight to the car. He doesn’t make eye contact with Eddie the entire time, walking several steps ahead and not pausing once to look back.

Maddie is waiting for him at the doors to the residence when he gets back, holding his tuxedo in a fresh dry-cleaning bag. “Special delivery for President Buckley,” she says, holding out the plastic-wrapped suit. She’s in her suit from the day still, her own plastic-wrapped gown in her other hand.

“Oh my god, I love you,” he replies, taking it from her. “I—”

“Forgot?” Maddie finishes his sentence with a knowing look. “Big sis is always two steps ahead. Don’t ever forget it.” She turns to face Eddie, who’s since taken his place beside the right-hand door. “Eddie, you wearing that old thing?” she teases.

Eddie makes a point of looking down at the suit already on his body before looking back up at her and nodding. “You bet.”

“Damn, no glitz and glam for the President of India?”

“Well I can’t be stealing the spotlight,” Eddie says with a shrug.

Maddie laughs, following Buck through the doors to the residence, and then the next set of doors to his suite. “Why are you pouting?” she asks, dropping her gown on the bed and flopping down beside it.

“You’re consorting with the enemy,” Buck hisses, motioning to the closed door.

“Eddie’s the enemy now?” Maddie asks, brow furrowing with confusion. “What happened?”

Buck groans, dropping onto the bed beside her and staring up at the ceiling. “He’s been weird all day. Like, he just walked into my meeting like nothing happened. Like he didn’t get shot and like I didn’t have a panic attack at the knowledge of his being shot and like I didn’t spend all day and night waiting to hear from him. And then we’re finally alone and getting him to talk to me — fuck, getting him to _ look _at me— was like trying to get blood from a stone.”

Maddie sighs, taking in his words. “What’s going on with you two?” she asks, turning to her side so she can face her brother.

He laughs dryly. “Fuck if I know.”

“Evan.”

“I don’t know. I think I love him,” Buck says before he can stop himself. Maddie’s face softens at his words, and suddenly, the word vomit that had been bottled up inside is spilling out. “It started in Iowa when we were on the campaign trail and I’m sorry I didn’t tell you, but—”

Maddie puts her hand up to stop him. “You really think I didn’t know?”

His mouth hangs open for a moment, rendered speechless for what must be the first time in his life. “You… But…. I just…. You knew?!”

“Of course I knew!” she practically giggles. “Neither of you is particularly subtle, you know that, right?”

“We are too!” Buck protests, shoving her shoulder playfully.

“Okay, fine. I was in the control room in one of the early days here, when you guys hadn’t quite figured out the blind spots on the cameras yet.”

“And what, exactly, were you doing in the agents-only control room, Madam?” Buck asks knowingly. “Wouldn’t have anything to do with Special Agent Han, would it?”

“This is not about me,” Maddie shoots back, blush creeping onto her cheeks. “You were telling me about how in love you are with Eddie. Let’s not digress.”

“Oh, we’re coming back to that one. You are _ so _not off the hook,” Buck says. “And I believe I said I think I love him, not that I’m _in love_ with him.”

“Are you, though?”

“I mean,” Buck pauses, taking a long breath. “Yeah. Yeah, I think so. It was never supposed to be like this. It was just getting some pent up sexual frustration out on the campaign trail. And then we just kept going. And I don’t know when it went from sex to feelings but, Mads, I’m so far gone. Past the point of any return, and it just… it feels right.”

“Did you tell him?”

“I was gonna,” Buck busies himself with a loose thread on the cuff of his shirt. “Earlier. But he was so cold and just not himself. And I know that he went through a lot yesterday, but I…” his voice trails off as he swallows around a lump in his throat. “I don’t think he feels the same. I mean, how could he do that today if he did? All day yesterday, I kept thinking that the only thing that could make everything okay, the only thing that could make it better, was if he was with me. I just wanted him. And I hate that it took him getting shot for me to realize it, but I know it now and I want to shout it from the fucking rooftops. But I just don’t think he wants to hear it.”

Maddie says nothing at first, just sits up and takes his hands in hers. “You are a badass,” she says, matter-of-fact. “I’m not just saying this because you’re my brother, but you’re the kindest, funniest person I know. You’re charming and charismatic and fiercely loyal. You’re the youngest President this country’s ever had, and you’re doing a damn good job. Eddie is the biggest idiot in the world if he doesn’t want to hear it, although for the record, I’m pretty sure he does.”

He pulls her into a hug, wondering silently how in the world he got lucky enough to win the big sister lottery.

Maddie grabs her dress from the bed and heads out to get ready herself. She stops at the doors to the residence, where she sees Eddie standing beside Chim. The plastic of the dry-cleaning wrapper around her dress crinkles as she crosses her arms, raising an eyebrow at Eddie as she gets close enough so only he can hear her.

“I don’t know what’s going on with you two, and frankly, I don’t care to. But I do know that whatever happened today has left him thinking that you don’t care about him. And I know that's not the case. And I also know that if you break my brother’s heart, I’ll have you transferred to desk duty without a second thought. We clear?”

Sitting through the five-course meal is absolutely excruciating. The only thing that makes it even remotely bearable is the ever-flowing wine, for which Buck has never been more grateful. After draining the last of his five times-filled glass, Buck stands up to start making his rounds to speak with the dinner guests. He almost stumbles when he stands up, the wine finally catching up to him as he gets to his feet for the first time since he started drinking. He catches himself, but not before there’s a hand gripping his elbow. “I’m fine,” he hisses, pulling his arm out from Eddie’s grip. Eddie drops his hand immediately, but doesn’t let him off the hook.

“You’re drunk,” he whispers, voice so quiet that only Buck can hear him. He’d be lying if he said he hadn’t been keeping track of each glass Buck downed during the course of the meal, but in his defense, it’s his job to keep an eye on the president. Also, in his defense, he’s never had luck with keeping his eyes off of Buck in a tuxedo.

His normally calm demeanor is threatened by the nervous energy pulsing through his body with each beat of his heart, anxious for the dinner to end so he can finally have a minute alone with Buck to talk. Everything from the afternoon felt wrong— the distance, the arguing, all of it. Eddie knows it‘s all on him, that he‘s the reason this wedge is now between them. He’s the reason Buck stormed out of the Capitol building without so much as a glance in his direction. He’s the reason Maddie cornered him for a few choice words, and hell, he’d put money down that he’s the reason Buck has been sucking down white wine faster than a poolside housewife all night.

Any moment his eyes haven’t on Buck in that damn tuxedo, they‘ve been watching the clock, longing for this godforsaken dinner to end already so he can get Buck alone and have a chance to explain himself. Although, now, based on the way he nearly loses his footing taking a straight step forward, it seems like Eddie’s chance to explain will have to wait a little longer until Sober Buck makes his reappearance. 

“Am not,” Buck replies, but even he knows it’s a bold-faced lie. “Don’t tell Maddie.”

Eddie can’t help but laugh at that. “Oh, I think she knows.”

Buck turns to see Maddie standing beside one of the senators, nodding at whatever he’s saying while simultaneously shooting Buck a death-stare so serious it makes the hair on the back of his neck stand up. He shoots her a shit-eating grin, raising his hand in a wave.

“Protect. Me.” he says through his teeth.

“Literally my job,” Eddie reminds him, placing a gentle hand on Buck’s lower back and nudging him towards the door. The second they’re out of the ballroom, Buck starts giggling. “Oh god, she’s totally gonna kill me. I’m so drunk.”

“C’mon,” Eddie says. “You could use some fresh air.”

They step out into the garden, and Eddie nods at one of the nearby guards. “Popular,” Buck muses.

Eddie rolls his eyes, leaning back against the wall and looking up at the sky. Buck, never the one to enjoy even the most comfortable of silences, says after a minute, “I’m sorry that I yelled at you. And that you got shot for me.”

Eddie shrugs, smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Occupational hazard.”

“Which?”

“Both.”

Buck shakes his head, looking over at Eddie. He stares at the curve of Eddie’s throat, his head tilted back as he looks up at the stars. Buck sighs, focusing on the way Eddie’s long eyelashes almost brush the top of his brow bone when he blinks. Standing here and looking over at Eddie, the moonlight casting his features in a soft light, Buck is transported right back to that hotel room in Iowa— that moment when everything suddenly became crystal clear. That’s how it feels out here tonight, like everything finally makes sense and this is how it’s supposed to be— just the two of them, doing non-presidential regular-person things. Taking a walk to sober up. Rolling their eyes at each other. Just _ being. _Then Buck looks around, and notices the tall white walls. The guards on the other side of the garden. The cameras above them, swiveling on their bases to follow their every move.

He’s suddenly aware of a pit in his stomach, growing more and more with each passing second, with each realization of just how presidential and non-regular-person their lives are. He thinks about how different everything has been since the shooting, how distant Eddie has been and how little they’ve actually seen of each other. It’s a sobering thought. He’s suddenly angry at it all— at the White House for the stupid security measures that make it so hard to actually be with Eddie, at the American people for voting him into this nonsense, at the President of India for visiting this week, of all weeks.

He looks back at Eddie, and he’s angry. Angry at him for the distance, angry at himself for not fighting harder, at the asshole with the gun for causing this mess in the first place. He turns away, walking back inside without another word. He barely gets three steps in before Eddie’s reaching for him. “Buck, wait—”

“No,” Buck says. But Eddie’s hand is on his shoulder, and Buck will be damned if he lets his heart get broken for the second time in one day. “No,” he repeats, ignoring the way Eddie’s face falls at his words. “No, no, no. You don’t get to do that to me.”

“Do what?”

“Play these games, Eddie! It’s like one second you want me and the next you don’t. And I have twelve hours until I have to get back up in front of all those people and give a speech on the continuing relations between the U.S. and India that I have yet to start writing, so trying to figure out why I’m not enough for you is the last fucking thing I need to be worrying about right now.” He has about a million more things he could say, but he decides to leave it at that. He turns and walks back inside, biting his tongue so hard he nearly draws blood. 


	5. baby love you’ve got me runaway

Of course, some part of him knows he can’t get too far away from Eddie. But he’ll be damned if he doesn’t try. He beelines for the ballroom, where weaves through the crowd, pausing to shake hands and kiss cheeks as he makes his way over to Maddie, who’s sitting with Josh, her best friend and Buck’s head speechwriter. They’re deep in conversation and Buck doesn’t even know what it’s about, but he has absolutely no problem interrupting it. He drops into the empty chair on the other side of Maddie and leans into their conversation. “How much longer until we can get the fuck out of here?”

“Why, what’s wrong?” she asks.

“Because I just talked myself into a hole that I am not mentally capable of digging my way out of tonight, that’s why.”

“What did you do?” she demands. “Other than drink your weight in wine during dinner.”

He rolls his eyes. “It’s possible I was overserved, but you’ll have to take that up with the wait staff. We need to get out of here.”

“Okay, so I am now, yet again, giving you what feels like a daily reminder that you’re the President,” Maddie replies. “You can’t just ditch your own dinner.”

“Sure I can,” Buck says. “Irish Goodbye, ever heard of it?”

“Do. Not,” Maddie hisses.

Buck raises an eyebrow. “Watch me.”

“Evan Buckley, I swear to God.” If looks could kill, Buck would be six feet underground by now.

As soon as the Indian President leaves, Buck makes eye contact with Maddie from the other side of the room, spinning his index finger in a circle in an attempt to say time to wrap it up.

As he’s saying the last of his goodbyes, he realizes he needs to grab his phone charger from where he left it on the desk in the Oval Office this morning. He purposely tells Chim where he’s going, knowing that an agent will have to follow him, and that he’s his best bet for this errand. Chim offers to send a staffer to get it, but Buck insists on going himself. He needs a chance to walk off the stress of the dinner, and this is the perfect opportunity. He expects Chim to be the one walking behind him, but upon realizing the footsteps belong to none other than Eddie, he bumps Chim’s name up a notch on his shit list.

“Buck,” Eddie says quietly as they walk.

“No,” Buck snaps, picking up his pace. Eddie is one blow of the wind away from a total meltdown. Which is why, when they step into the Oval, he reaches for Buck’s hand. It’s quick and barely-there, his pinky brushing against Buck’s as he steps past him, but it’s enough. It’s just a test— one that Buck fails when he steps around Eddie and grabs the cord from his desk without even so much as a glance in his direction. Eddie counts to five as he inhales, trying to calm his racing heart. Speaking of his heart, it drops to his stomach as he watches Buck pass him on the way out the door, his face falling. He fucking hates this.

Eddie stops at the end of the hallway, right before the door to the entrance to the residence. “Buck, please,” he says, voice low. “We need to talk.”

“We need to talk?!” Buck repeats incredulously. “We needed to talk when you took a bullet for me. We needed to talk when I was having a panic attack at the thought of you possibly being dead. We needed to talk when you ignored me that whole day and half of the following one. We needed to talk when you came back to work and acted like nothing fucking happened, and we needed to talk when you couldn’t even look me in the goddamn eye!” Buck snaps. “But now’s the moment it finally dawns on you that maybe, just maybe, we need to talk?”

“Can I just explain?” Eddie asks.

“Save it,” Buck says, “You know, I think Bobby can take over for the rest of the night.”

Eddie bites his tongue, eyes catching on the security camera on the wall above them. “Whatever you want, Sir.”

“Sir? Stop that. You…. I swear to God.”

“Mr. President, if-,” Eddie begins.

“Do not call me that,” Buck hisses, jabbing a finger in Eddie’s chest. He storms past him, yanking the door open. He stops suddenly, hand on the doorknob. “You know what, no. I’m not leaving until I have an answer. Was this ever real for you?”

Eddie freezes, trying to find the right words to tell Buck just how real it is —and has been— for him. Before he has a chance to say anything, Buck is holding his hands up, palms out, as if to say I surrender as he snaps, “Whatever. I know the answer, it’s fine.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Eddie hisses, pushing the door shut to keep Buck from leaving. His tone softens as he sees the pain written across Buck’s face. Everything in him wants to comfort Buck; wants to reach out for him, wants to place a hand on his shoulder, pull him in for a hug, press a kiss to his temple. But he knows he can’t. “I’m just-”

“What, Eddie?” Buck presses. “You’re just what?”

“I’m trying to do my job.”

“Right. Got it,” Buck snaps, cold edge to his voice.

“But if you just let me—”

Buck cuts him off, shaking his head. “Nah, man. Forget it,” he says, storming off before he can do something stupid, like cry. Or something even stupider, like keep talking.

He swallows around the lump in his throat, trying to push away the sting of rejection coursing through his veins. The second the door to his bedroom closes behind him, he heaves a sigh. Pressing his back to the closed door, he takes a few shaky breaths, willing the tears welling up in his eyes to stop in their tracks before they spill over. Eddie’s words keep replaying in his mind. Trying to do my job.

Blinking back tears, Buck slides his back down the door until he’s sitting on the ground, knees pulled close into his chest. He takes a long, shaky breath, hiding his face in his knees. The only thing he wants right now, the only thing to make this mess better, is the one thing— the one person— he can’t have. Fucking great, he thinks. Hail to the chief.

At some point, he crawls into bed and falls asleep, still in his tux. He wakes up to Maddie’s hand on his shoulder. “I’m not going,” he mumbles, turning his face into the pillow and pulling the blanket up over his face. “I’m sick.”

“Well, first of all, the President of the United States doesn’t get to take a sick day. And second, you’re full of shit. Get up,” she says, yanking the covers off. “Oh my god, are you still in your tux?!” she demands, getting a good look at him.

“Go away, Mads,” Buck groans, rubbing the sleep from his eyes.

Maddie drops down beside the bed, squatting down so she’s at Buck’s level. “Evan,” she says calmly. “What‘s going on?”

“If I get out of bed, will you not ask me that again?”

“Seriously, are you okay?” she presses. “I know everything is still fresh, and you had a lot to drink last night, and everything with Eddie-”

“I’m fine,” Buck lies. “Just tired.”

“You’ve never been a good liar. You know that, right?”

“Maddie, come on,” Buck groans, covering his head with a pillow. “Mental health day.”

Maddie sighs. Buck can’t see, but he feels the mattress shift as she sits on the edge of the bed. “Unfortunately, those don’t exist here. No matter how much you deserve one. I can clear your afternoon, but you have to give your speech and take a couple of meetings first. Okay?”

Buck mumbles a response that Maddie can’t make out. “After your 1:30 with the HUD secretary, Buckley Bonding. We’ll come back to the residence and watch movies and eat candy until we can’t move. I promise.”

“Deal,” Buck replies from beneath the pillow. “But only if I can have ten more minutes.”

“Five,” Maddie says before standing up and walking out. Buck pulls the covers back up over his head the second he hears her heels reach the hallway. There’s no way it’s been five minutes when there’s a pounding on the door.

“Mr. President, let’s go.” He’d be damned if he didn’t know that voice. He groans loudly in response, deciding he doesn’t need to dignify anything Eddie has to say with a real response. He swings his feet over the side of the bed and onto the floor, heaving a sigh.

He spends the majority of the day ignoring Eddie, which is pretty easy since he’s in meetings in the Oval most of the day, Eddie on the other side of the door. Out of sight, out of mind. Or something like that.

It’s at the end of his meeting with the HUD secretary, when Eddie’s finally had enough of holding his tongue. He steps into the Oval after letting the secretary out. “Get up,” he demands. “We’re talking, whether you like it or not.”

Buck freezes at the sound of his voice, turning to face him. “There’s nothing to talk about. I’m a pain in your ass, I get it.”

“You don’t seriously believe that,” Eddie practically snaps, marching over to the far window. “Unbelievable.”

“I do seriously believe that, Eddie,” Buck shoots back. “One day I’m all you want, the next you can’t be bothered.”

“You are all I want,” Eddie says, matter-of-fact. “Always.”

Buck fights the urge to absolutely melt at Eddie’s words. “Then why the distance?” he demands. He’s fired up now, buzzing with frustration and some combination of pent-up anger, confusion, and hurt.

“You could have died!” Eddie shouts, startling them both. “You could have died because I was distracted. Me.” His voice breaks on the last word. Taking a shaky breath, he brings his hands to his hair and tugs at it as he searches for the right words. “It was my fault that guy even had time to pull the trigger. My fault that he did, and my fault that the bullet even got that close to you. If I had been focused, if I had been watching like I should have…”

“Stop it,” Buck says softly. Then, louder. “Eddie, stop. That was not your fault.”

“It was,” Eddie insists. “Of course it was. I was watching you when I should have been scanning for threats. I was distracted, and we almost lost you. I almost lost you, and I ... that cannot happen. Ever.”

“There were hundreds of other agents there,” Buck says. “This is not on you. Not to mention, those bullets were meant for me.”

“They may have been meant for you, but I was meant to stop them. And I almost didn’t, because I was distracted. You… you’re are a distraction I can’t afford.”

“A distraction you can’t afford?” Buck echoes Eddie’s words back to him. “What the hell does that even mean?” he demands.

“It means I can’t lose you!” Eddie all but yells. “Yeah, the people can’t lose their President and the country can’t lose its leader, but I can’t lose you. Buck, I swear to God, if anything happens to you, I don’t ….”

“So the answer is to put a wall up between us? And what about what I want? I don’t want to do this without you.” The words take him by surprise, but what’s even more surprising is the sense of calm he feels as soon as they’re out.

Eddie lets out a slow breath, taking in Buck’s words. “But this?” Buck motions between the two of them. “Whatever this was these last two days? I mean damn, Eddie, I have half a mind to call up Homeland Security and tell them to scrap waterboarding in favor of whatever this fucking torture is.”

“I can’t let us get in the way of doing my job ever again.”

Buck sighs, then after a beat, says, “What I’m hearing is that there’s an us.”

“Of course there’s an us!” Eddie practically shouts. “Of course there is. Always has been, always will be. I mean, God, Buck, you—”

He doesn’t have a chance to finish his sentence, as Buck’s lips are on his, his hands gripping Eddie’s hips as he pulls him close. It’s slow, gentle, nothing like their typical frenzy. It means something. A lot of things, actually.

“I’m sorry,” Eddie mumbles into Buck’s mouth. “I’m so sorry. I should have said something right away. I just… I knew I’d never be able to look you in the eye and follow through.”

“You wanted to protect me,” Buck nods. “In your own, weird, round-about way. But I promise you, I’m not going anywhere,” he declares.

“Not if I have anything to do with it,” Eddie replies, pressing a kiss to Buck’s temple before pulling him into a hug.

Eddie sneaks into the presidential bedroom a few minutes after his shift ends. Maddie has since gone home, and Buck is sitting on the bed. He’s in that damn Yale sweatshirt, legs crossed beneath him as he scrolls on his phone. “Finally,” he says, looking up at Eddie.

“It’s been all of eight minutes since my shift ended,” Eddie quips.

“Eight minutes too long,” Buck says with a small smile, rising up on his knees and reaching out for Eddie, who’s still standing beside the bed. “C’mere.”

  
  


Later, when Buck is tracing lazy circles on Eddie’s bare chest, he runs his fingers over the bruise from the bullet that was stopped by Eddie’s vest. Eddie inhales sharply at the contact, despite how gentle Buck’s touch is. “Sorry,” Buck whispers, pulling his hand back. Eddie is quick to grab his wrist, bringing Buck’s hand back to where it was. Buck lays his hand flat, his fingers covering the expanses of muscle beneath the purple skin. “Did it hurt?” he asks.

“Hmm?”

“Getting shot,” Buck clarifies.

“Nah,” Eddie says, shaking his head with a small smile. “Didn’t even feel it.”

“You are such a liar,” Buck says with a laugh. “Well, don’t make it a habit. Purple is not your color.”

“I’m sorry you got shot for me,” he adds after a moment, then presses a gentle kiss to the bruise. Eddie sighs contently, eyes fluttering closed.

“It didn’t get through my vest,” Eddie reminds him, running his fingers through Buck’s hair. “No biggie.”

Buck huffs a sigh, looking up at him. “It is too a biggie. You got shot protecting me. Which, by the way, in case I haven't told you yet? Super hot. Remind me to pay you back for that one.”

“What do you call what we just did?” Eddie asks, grinning down at Buck.

Buck raises his eyebrows. “The warm-up.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you so much for reading! i originally planned for this to end after six chapters, but i’m loving them in this little world and am realizing i can write about these two goofs in this verse for wayyyyy more than six chapters. soooo i think i’m going to do some follow-up oneshots and start a collection! if you have prompts or anything specific you want to see, let me know :)


	6. your hand forever is all i want

Eddie’s woken up by the sound of someone pounding on his door. They’re in Omaha on a campaign stop for Buck’s re-election, three years into his presidency. And it’s eleven o’clock at night and no one should be anywhere close to his room— let alone banging on the door so hard it seems like the door might fall in— unless something’s wrong. He’s up and on his feet almost immediately, opening the door to his hotel room within a matter of seconds as soon as he sees it’s one of the night agents through the peephole. 

“POTUS is gone,” she says quickly, her words coming more as a breath than a sentence. 

“What?” Eddie asks, sure he heard her wrong. 

“We can’t find him.”

“What do you mean you can’t find him?” Eddie demands, panic rising. 

Her voice is shaky. “We… we can’t find him. One minute he was with us, and then he wasn’t. We checked the cameras, and it looks like he snuck out an employee entrance.” 

Buck is supposed to be on the top floor of the hotel, safe in his own room on the top floor that’s been entirely blocked off. They had agreed it was too risky to spend the night together, what with the hotel full of agents and staffers and the city crawling with press on the night before one of Buck’s biggest rallies to date. 

Some tiny part of Eddie had been nagging at him to sneak up there anyway, to work his magic in the ways he had so many times before to avoid being found out by others. But he had pushed that nagging feeling aside, deciding the risk was too great. He thought of the stories, the speculation, the total shit storm that would ensue (and, likely, tank Buck’s chances at re-election) if news of the President’s relationship with the head of his Secret Service detail broke.

So he had resigned to his own room, two floors down, and called Christopher on FaceTime and fell asleep by 9. Eddie would be lying if he said the night alone wasn’t the worst thing to happen to him. 

But now, all that’s forgotten as he’s flying into action before the young agent has a chance to finish her sentence, shoving his feet into his shoes and grabbing his earpiece and phone from the table beside the bed. 

“What should we do?” she asks, nodding to the other two agents in the hallway. 

“Stay here.”

“And do what?”

“Think about what you’re going to say to convince me not to fire you all,” Eddie snaps, slipping his earpiece into place. And then he’s out the door, trying to push down the panic and anxiety threatening to overcome him. He calls Buck twice, but it goes straight to voicemail. His stomach is doing flips at this point, a cold sweat over his skin as he tries not to think of the worst. 

“Chim, Chim, Eddie,” he says into his radio frantically, practically flying down the hotel stairs. He knows it’s a long shot that Chim will be up, let alone on his radio, but he hopes for it nonetheless. 

“Go for Chim.”

Eddie’s never been so happy to hear his voice. “I need you to track Buck’s phone for me. Now.”

“Uh, okay. You got it boss,” Chim replies, the frenzied nature of Eddie’s voice throwing him off more than his unusual request. “Everything okay?”

“No,” Eddie says, swallowing around a lump in his throat. “He’s gone. The night agents lost him.”

“Shit,” is all Chim says back at first. Then, after a beat, he adds, “Give me one sec, it’s loading.” 

Eddie is behind the wheel of a Suburban at this point, peeling away from the hotel garage at an alarming speed. “I can’t believe this,” he says, voice cracking. How could he let this happen? His breathing is shaky as he struggles to keep himself together, to keep the panic attack at bay that he knows damn well is brewing inside him and just waiting to strike. He slams his hand against the steering wheel, his fear manifesting itself as rage. “Fuck.”

“It’s okay,” Chim replies. “It’ll be okay.”

“It has to be,” Eddie says. And if it’s more for himself than for Chim, so what? Eddie isn’t actually sure where to go yet, but driving through the empty streets of Omaha with the lights and sirens on feels like a good place to start. It’s quiet for a minute, nothing but the sound of the car’s sirens and his pulse thumping in his ears as his heart races. After what feels like eons, Chimney’s voice is back in his ear.

“Alright, got him. He’s in Council Bluffs, Iowa. I can get a more precise location, though, hold on.”

Eddie lets out a long, shaky breath he wasn’t aware he was holding. Of course. “Don’t bother. I know exactly where he is.”

“The Hilton,” Chim and Eddie say at the same time. 

“Damn, Eddie, you a mind reader or something?” Chim teases, trying to lighten the mood. 

“Or something,” Eddie replies, pulling onto the highway. 

One flash of his badge is all it takes to get the floor cleared and a key to room 317, and then Eddie’s through the door and flipping the lights on without a second thought. Sure enough, Buck is on the king-sized bed, asleep on top of the blankets in sweatpants and his Yale sweatshirt. 

“I got him,” Eddie says into his radio, waiting for Chim’s confirmation before pulling the wire from his ear and tossing it to the floor. “Are you fucking kidding?” he demands, kicking the leg of the bed to wake Buck up. 

“Mmfh,” Buck mumbles into a pillow. 

“Get up. Now.”

“Morning to you, too,” Buck mumbles, squinting as his eyes adjust to the light in the room. He sits up, taking in the sight of Eddie at the foot of the bed, arms crossed and jaw set. 

“Please tell me that my agents are lying to my face and that you didn’t disguise yourself and sneak away from your Secret Service detail,” Eddie says calmly. 

Buck is helpless at trying to keep a smile from tugging at the corners of his mouth. “Honestly?”

“No, I want you to lie to my face,” Eddie replies sarcastically. Then, “Yes, honestly.”

Buck is quiet for a second before saying, “In my defense, the night agents are idiots.”

“Are you out of your mind?!” Eddie all but shouts, hands flying to his head to tug at his hair, frustration coursing through him. “No, really, are you out of your fucking mind, Evan? I really want to know. It’s the only explanation for why you would do something so insanely  _ stupid _ .”

Buck sits up a little straighter at the sound of his first name on Eddie’s lips. “First-naming me, huh? You must really mean business,” he muses. 

“You could have been killed, you know that right?” It’s clear from Eddie’s tone that he doesn’t appreciate the humor in any of this. But if that weren’t enough, his crossed arms, red face, and frustrated pacing would do the trick. 

“But I wasn’t,” Buck points out. 

Eddie takes a long, deep breath. “But you could have been.”

“But I wasn’t!” Buck protests.

“Do you realize what could have happened?”

“I mean yeah, but I did a cost-benefit and decided a few hours to myself was worth the risk.” Buck’s tone is light, teasing. Eddie is having none of it. 

He groans audibly. “You’re infuriating,” he snaps. 

“You’re seriously mad?” Buck asks, standing up to face Eddie. He’s immediately defensive. Sure, he knows what he did was dumb, but no one understands the pressure of being President. No one understands the constant scrutiny, the resting anxiety on even the best days, the mental, physical, and emotional toll. No one understands what it feels like to be  _ on  _ all the time, what it feels like to forget what it feels like to be normal. No one understands the envy that bubbles up within him when he sees people doing random, regular-people things like walking into Starbucks, feeding the parking meter, and holding hands as they cross the street. No one understands the thrill of getting in the back of an Uber and checking into a hotel without being recognized, the relief of being truly alone for the first time in years.

“Of course I’m mad!” Eddie shoots back. “You risked your life today for what? An hour and a half alone?”

“Sure did,” Buck replies, committing to digging his heels in at this point. “And it was nice. I’d do it again.”

“Stop that,” Eddie snaps. 

“Oh, I’m serious,” Buck says. “In fact, I wouldn’t mind getting back to it. So if you’d leave me alone—”

“Leave you alone?” Eddie demands, taking a step closer, crowding into Buck’s personal space. 

“Yeah, you heard me.”

With one step, Eddie closes the distance between them and backs Buck into the wall, pinning him there with one hand on Buck’s hip and the other beside his head. Buck’s breath hitches in his throat as his back hits the wall, his teeth digging into his lip as he tries to keep it in his pants. Now is  _ not  _ the time to think Eddie’s protective streak is hot- not when he’s so close to holding his ground. “Fuck you,” Eddie says before his lips are on Buck’s, hard and desperate. And then Buck is biting Eddie’s lip,  _ hard _ . 

“Wouldn’t you like that,” Buck grits out as Eddie nips at his collarbone, running his tongue over the tender spot before moving up his neck. 

“Wouldn’t I,” Eddie murmurs. Buck screws his eyes shut, biting back a moan as Eddie makes quick work of his button and zipper. He knots his fingers in Eddie’s hair, pressing his face into his neck. “You have no idea what the last hour was like for me,” Eddie mumbles between kisses. 

It dawns on Buck, then, where Eddie’s anger is coming from. He thinks back to that day at the park, when the roles were reversed. Eddie laying on the stage with a bullet in his vest, Buck forced to leave, no way to know if Eddie was okay. He remembers the panic, the fear, the anxiety. The white-hot anger when he found out Eddie was, in fact, okay, and just choosing not to let Buck in. “Fuck, I’m sorry,” Buck says honestly. “Oh god, I’m sorry. I didn’t think—”

“I know,” Eddie replies. 

“I just wanted to be normal,” Buck admits, drawing a shaky breath. “It all just got to be too much and I needed to stop the ride and get off for a minute.”

“Why didn’t you call me?” Eddie asks, taking Buck’s hands in his own. “I would have come, I—”

“I know,” Buck replies, bringing his hands to Eddie’s hips and slipping his fingers under the hem of his shirt, running them over warm skin and toned muscle. “There are times when I just want Eddie, though. Not Special Agent Diaz.”

Eddie sighs, taking in Buck’s words. “I get it,” he says. “And wish I could give you that all the time.” 

“Don’t get me wrong, I don’t want you to ever stop working here. But I have my moments where I just want you to be my boyfriend, not my bodyguard, is all.” He dips his hands under Eddie’s waistband, hooking his fingers into the fabric and pulling him closer.

“Well, you signed up for that one.” Eddie draws a shaky breath as Buck‘s hands continue to roam.

“Touché.”

“Promise me you won’t pull a stunt like this again,” Eddie says.

“Promise me you won’t leave me alone with those morons again,” Buck counters. 

“Buck-”

Buck throws his head back in frustration. “Oh my god, do you want to argue or do you to fuck me? Because I was kind of hoping you’d take the hint by now.”

“Don’t think I missed the significance of where we are right now,” Eddie says later, as they walk down to the car to head back to Omaha. He looks over at Buck, who smiles back at him. 

When Buck realized they were less than a half hour away from the hotel that started it all, he took it as a sign to slip away for a few hours. The truth is, he was so desperate for one that he would’ve convinced himself that anything was the sign he was looking for. 

“It was only a half hour from our hotel,” he says. “I couldn’t not.”

“Agree to disagree,” Eddie says. “Never again.”

“Okay, okay,” Buck surrenders. “Never again, I promise. It was dangerous and stupid and I can see that now. Although, at the very least, we’re two for two on the great sex in room 317 of the Council Bluffs Hilton.”

“I hate you,” Eddie says, but the smile on his face betrays his words. 

“Well, I love you,” Buck sing-songs. “I love you, I love you, I love you. So there.” 

“How could I ever forget?” Eddie asks, one hand on Buck’s thigh, the other on the steering wheel. “It’s just too bad I love you more.”

Eddie pulls into the garage at the hotel twenty minutes later, returning the Suburban to its parking spot and shifting it into park. “Okay, vacation’s over,” he says, turning to Buck. 

Buck leans over the console, pressing a soft kiss to Eddie’s lips.

“Fine, but you’re coming with me,” he says, unbuckling and hopping out of the car.

“As if I’m letting you out of my sight,” Eddie replies, the car chirping behind them as he locks it. “Chim, Chim, Eddie,” he says into his watch.

“Yeah, go for Chim.”

“We’re on the premises, Eagle is flying.”

“Back to the nest, I hope.”

Eddie laughs. “You better believe it.” 

“Hen and I are here,” Chimney says. “Figured we needed the best and brightest outside the suite if the President’s going to be moonlighting as an escape artist.”

Walking up to Buck’s floor is absolute torture, keeping their hands off of one another. Eddie walks two steps behind Buck, both of them careful to appear calm and platonic as they make their way towards the elevators. They give polite nods to the agents and unformed guards they pass on their way. When they get off the elevator and round the corner, they see Hen and Chim at their posts in front of the large suite where Buck was supposed to be this whole time. Hen looks them both up and down, raising her eyebrows as Chim shoots them both a knowing look. Hen turns to Chim. “They’re totally gonna do it. Pay up.” 

“Eddie’s shirt’s untucked,” Chim points out, as Eddie glances down to see that his shirt is, indeed, a total mess. “They’ve been at it already.  _ You _ pay up.”

“Really, guys?” Buck asks incredulously. “Betting on us?”

“Easy money, Mr. President,” Hen replies.

“Don’t call me that,” Buck says around a smile, just as Eddie says, “Don’t call him that.”

Hen and Chim share a look, just before Hen reaches into her pocket for her wallet. 

As soon as the doors close behind them, Eddie closes the distance between them, grabbing Buck’s hand. Buck grins, his heart thumping in his chest excitedly. The second they’re through the door to the bedroom, it’s all hands and lips and heavy, shaky breaths. “Fucking finally,” Buck says as Eddie kicks his shoes off. He doesn’t waste any time in walking Buck backwards until the backs of his knees hit the mattress. “Too long,” he murmurs against Buck’s lips, breaking contact only to shove him back onto the bed. Buck’s head flops against the mattress as Eddie drops down on top of him, straddling his waist. Buck pulls him down and meets his lips with a filthy kiss, just before bringing his hand to the back of Eddie’s thigh, yanking him closer. “You gonna fuck me or are you waiting for a written invitation?” Buck says. “Take your clothes off.”

Eddie doesn’t have to be told twice. 

The following afternoon, Buck’s looking over his speech cards backstage when he suddenly hands them back to Maddie. “I’m going off-book today,” is all he says. 

“You’re doing what now?” she asks. She’d be lying if she said that didn’t make her nervous, what with the thousands of people in the crowd waiting to hear Buck speak about his policies and plans for his re-election, should the people deem him worthy of their votes. But at the same time, she trusts him entirely and she can tell by the look in his eye that there’s no changing his mind. 

Buck shrugs. “I have a lot to say, a lot that the American people need to hear. And none of it is on those cards.” 

“Okay, then. Go get em,” Maddie says, smoothing out the lapels of his suit jacket. 

He kisses her cheek before walking towards the curtain. With one last look back at Maddie, he walks onto the stage.

Eddie’s standing on the side of the stage this time, rather than directly behind him. He’s standing straight, hands folded in front of his torso as he watches Buck intently, as always. Their eyes meet, a small smile tugging at the corner of Eddie’s lips. He nods slightly, and it’s all the confirmation Buck needs that what he’s about to say is the right choice. 

After his greeting, Buck grips the sides of the podium, leaning into the microphone just a little more than before. 

“It’s time to be honest with you, America. I’m up here, asking you to trust me. And I’ve been thinking about that a lot lately, and what I realized is that it’s not fair for me to ask you to trust me so boldly, so completely, if I’m not being honest with you. Because the truth is, I haven’t been honest with you.” 

He pauses, allowing the crowd to process his words. They’re hanging onto every word as he continues. “What I haven’t told you, America, is that I’m in love. Now, you’ve known that I’m proud bi man since before you elected me. But, now, it’s time I let you know that I’m a relationship with that man right there.” He points at Eddie, whose cheeks were already burning— once he had realized where Buck was going with his speech— but are doing so tenfold now that thousands of eyes are on him. “Yep, that’s him. Looking just as surprised as all of you, because he had no idea I was going to do to this today.” Buck looks over, making eye contact with Eddie. The small grin on Eddie’s face and the glint in his eyes is all Buck needs. “I’m in love with him and I have been since before I was your President.”

He pauses again, meeting eyes with Maddie on the side of the stage. She’s crying, which he totally expected. “I’m telling you this because I’m still the same man you chose to lead you and believe in you and fight for you three years ago. And in keeping with the theme of being honest with you, I’ll tell you that this job is freaking hard.” The crowd laughs. He can’t keep the smile off his face. “This job is hard, and demanding, and it eats away at your personal life until the only time you have alone is when you’re asleep. And even then, there’s people right outside! I know, right?” 

The crowd is eating this up, hanging onto his every word. “I didn’t keep this from you because I was ashamed, or because I thought I needed to hide this part of me. But rather, I wanted to keep this just for me. Just for him. Just for us. But the thing is, I’ve come to realize that this is the type of love that is so powerful, so real, so all-consuming that I can’t help but shout it from the rooftops. So, here we are. This is me, shouting it from the rooftops. Or, I guess, from the six-foot stage in Memorial Park. Tomato, tomahto. 

He can feel a lump forming in his throat, the emotions catching up to him as he sees misty eyes and soft smiles in the crowd before him. “So this is me, sharing my truth with you, America. And if that plays a role in whose name you tick off on your ballot come November, then so be it. But I’m not hiding anymore. I stand here before you today, the truest version of myself, asking you to continue to believe in me. Continue to believe in me, continue to believe in the power of America and its people, and continue to believe in love. Thank you. God bless the United States of America.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> and that’s it! 
> 
> thank you SO MUCH for reading!!! one-shots to come, and mayyyyybe an epilogue too :)


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